


Chains

by jenjam



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dark Character, Dark Stephen Strange, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Mental Instability, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, pain play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-28 05:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15042239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenjam/pseuds/jenjam
Summary: After Titan, Stephen Strange returns to Earth a little ... broken. No man - not even a Sorcerer Supreme - can view 14 million futures without becoming something darker than they used to be.* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *Set after Infinity War, and after Thanos is (eventually) defeated. No, I don't know how that happened LOL It doesn't matter for this story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've read lots of Dark!Tony but I haven't seen any Dark!Strange so here it is.
> 
> This story WILL contain graphic descriptions of rape and violence, and it WILL portray Stephen Strange in a very-not-nice way. If either of these things is likely to offend you, I recommend you not read on.
> 
> ... any comments complaining about these aspects of the story - which I have WARNED you about - will be deleted. 
> 
> * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The penthouse was filled with people, more than Pepper had ever seen here in Tony’s private sanctuary. Even for a private event there were people who _had_ to be invited, though it pained her to see Steve Rogers mingling so casually with the other guests, as though he still had a place here. No – she may have had to include him, but she would never forget what he had done to Tony and after today she had every intention of never seeing the man again.

Pepper looked across to where Peter Parker stood silently next to his Aunt. Pepper knew that May was worried about Peter – there had been no sign of his usual exuberance in the weeks since his return from Titan and the two women had shared their fears about the changes in the boy. It didn’t help that Peter remembered little of what had happened on Titan. Bruce – despite not being “that kind of doctor” – had diagnosed a severe case of PTSD, and suggested that Peter was blocking the painful memories as a coping mechanism. Time would tell if he would regain those memories; Pepper wasn’t sure if it would be a good thing or not.

Standing close to the young Spiderman was the sorcerer who had been instrumental in bringing him home. It had been his actions and sacrifice that had given the others the opportunity to reverse Thanos’ genocide although again at great cost. The sorcerer kept a close eye on Peter, worry and pain in his eyes and Pepper knew that he had not escaped without his own scars. She crossed the floor to where he stood and placed a gentle hand on the man’s arm, startling him from his thoughts. He turned toward her and she could easily see the pain in his shifting blue-green eyes before he steeled himself and attempted a small smile.

“Ms Potts.” He greeted her softly.

“It’s Pepper, remember?” she prompted him gently. Though she had only met the man a few times, his intelligence and mannerisms often reminded her of Tony. The two men were very similar and she found herself liking the tall man. She made a small gesture toward Peter. “You worry about him.”

Stephen sighed and nodded.

“Everything that happened,” he stopped and swallowed hard before continuing, “It was so much for anybody to cope with, but Peter, he’s just so …” his voice trailed off again.

“Young?” Pepper thought she knew what Stephen was trying to say. He sighed again, agreeing.

“Has he remembered anything yet?”

Pepper shook her head sadly.

“I half hope he doesn’t.” The sorcerer voiced the thought that Pepper had been thinking only minutes before. “It might be better for him. I just wish … I mean, I should have done _more_!” His words held a bitter anger that Pepper knew was directed at himself – another way he was like Tony, always focusing the blame inwards, always thinking he could, and should, do _better_.

“I’m sure you did all that you could, Stephen.” She tried to pull the man from his dark thoughts. “You brought him _home_.”

That reminder, meant as reassurance, had the opposite effect as Stephen flinched and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he looked at Pepper in anguish.

“Pepper, I’m so sorry. I …” he could not continue, and Pepper just nodded, knowing what the man was trying to say. Without meaning to, both then found their eyes turning to the large hologram display on the wall behind them. A slow montage of images scrolled across the top half of the screen, showing Tony in his various iterations -  genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist – as the bottom of the display remained static, reminding all in the room why they were here.

_In memoriam_

_Tony Stark_

_29.5.1970 – 25.4.2018_

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, stepped through the halo of golden sparks into the kitchen of the New York sanctum. At the dining table, Wong reached for the pot sitting in front of him, pouring a second cup of tea to match the one already in front of him. Silently he offered the cup toward the other man, who dismissed the portal behind him and accepted the cup with a small nod, sitting with a heavy sigh in a seat opposite Wong.

They sat quietly for a moment before Wong asked softly “How was it?”

Stephen let out a bark - half laugh, half anger, and gripped the cup in his hand tightly, causing his fingers to spasm in pain.

“It was a funeral. How do you _think_ it was?” He took a small sip of the hot tea and wished it were hotter, wished it would _burn_ through him. “Well, I say funeral, but it wasn’t even that was it? After all, there was no body was there? There were just pictures on the wall, and people who pretended to _know_ him. Fuck, _ROGERS_ was there, strutting and talking about Tony like they were _friends_ , like he didn’t fucking _betray_ Tony, and the rest of them, just …”

“Stephen. Enough.” Wong stopped the words pouring from his friend’s mouth in a stream.

Wong regarded the other man, worry painted on his face. In the two weeks since his and Peter’s return from Titan, since the eventual defeat of Thanos, he had seen the pain and loathing build in his friend; listened to the bitter rants that exploded from him at random moments, explosions of thought that he seemed unable to control. He had been horrified when Stephen told him about the millions of futures he had explored – the repeated deaths and destruction in every future that the man had witnessed. All but one.

“You should never have looked so far. No man should see …”

Wong’s words were cut off when Stephen abruptly shot to his feet and threw the teacup violently across the room to shatter against a wall, tea dripping down the wallpaper. Stephen glared at him in rage and Wong could see the darkness in his friend’s eyes, something broken and hard.

“What the _fuck_ else was I supposed to do, Wong? You’re so fucking quick to tell me what I _shouldn’t_ do, but we had to _know_ , we had to beat him, we _had to …_ ” Breathing hard, Stephen stopped and placed his head in his hands making harsh choking noises as he struggled for control. He wasn’t aware of Wong standing until he felt a hand on his back and he reacted defensively, throwing up his arm to force the other man away. He felt power beginning to pool in his fingertips and knew he was close to lashing out. When Wong tried again to approach his friend Stephen threw both hands up between them, fighting his impulse to let the power strike out.

“ _Don’t!_ ” He pleaded for the other man to stop. “Just …. don’t.”

Wong could see how close his friend was to losing control completely and took a step back, silently watching as Stephen took deep breaths, slowly calming, the sparks at his fingertips flickering slower and then dying. Stephen stepped back to the table and sat back down, hands covering his face. Wong turned and began collecting the broken shards of the tea cup, placing them in the small bin on the counter.

“They didn’t know him. They didn’t _see_ …” Stephen’s voice is quieter now, calmer, and Wong turns back and resumes his seat at the table, silently waiting for the other man to continue, sure it would help him to talk. Stephen sighed, and Wong could see the sharp trembling in his hands, worse than he has seen it for months.

“I barely knew him, Wong.” Stephen looks up at his friend, eyes pleading for him to understand. “But in all those futures, I _saw_ him, I saw him more deeply than any of those people today. They never knew – any of them – just how great he could be.” He sighed again, closing his eyes. “And now they never will.”

Wong thought deeply as the other man fell silent again. How must it feel, to see the full potential of a man, and then to watch that potential die? No wonder his friend had returned a little darker – a little more _broken_ – with those kind of memories plaguing him. It would take time, he knew, for Stephen to recover from that; all Wong could do is be there for his friend, listen to his pain, help him find a way forward. For now though …

“You need to rest.” Wong waited until the other man raised his head, eyes glinting. “You need time to heal, Stephen, and that starts with rest.”

Stephen nodded slowly. The day had definitely taken its toll. Interacting with people he despised, most of whom – he is sure – hate him in equal measure for not bringing their friend home. _Friend_ he scoffed internally, _they claimed to be Tony’s friends, those parasites, they_ … Stephen fought the thoughts pushing back in his head, swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

Rest. He needed rest.

Standing slowly, he thanked Wong for keeping watch over the Sanctum while he had been at the tower. Wong offered to stay while Stephen rested, but he was quick to reassure his friend that he would be fine. He promised to rest, and Wong pledged to return the next day to check in. Then he left, leaving Stephen blessedly alone.

Leaving the kitchen, Stephen made his way down the long corridor to his bedroom. Just inside the doorway, the Cloak of Levitation stood sentry over the room; the proceedings of the day had not necessitated him wearing the cloak. Now Stephen made a gesture and the cloak wafted silently out of the room, gently brushing over Stephen’s side as it left. Stephen closed the door and set a ward to immediately notify him if anyone – even Wong – should enter the Sanctum while he slept.

Removing the layers of belts and fabric around his torso, Stephen quickly stripped down to just his soft leather pants and then sat on the end of the bed to pull his boots off and place them orderly on the floor. Waving his hand, he dispelled the wards of illusion he had cast over the room early that morning, and he was no longer alone.

“It was a beautiful service,” he said into the room, turning to regard the man on the bed behind him. Hands secured in invisible chains, naked of all technology and clothing except for the grey track pants which were too long for his much shorter legs, the brunette glared back at Stephen, mahogany eyes hardened with rage and confusion.

Stephen only smiled in return, eyes crinkling and shining with something that the brunette could not identify.

“You should have been there.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to choose between 1 long chapter or 2 short ones. I went for the first option ;) hope you enjoy
> 
> Another warning to PLEASE read the tags of this work and make sure you are happy to continue reading.
> 
> Additional warnings at end of story (but nothing too heavy in this chapter)
> 
> * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony’s memories of the past two weeks were a hazy blur. He remembered watching Peter crumble to ash _I don’t want to go_ and the sorcerer following soon after _it was the only way_ leaving him alone on Titan with only the android. Everything after that was a kaleidoscope of colour and noise. His next _clear_ memory was of being carried in strong arms and laid gently on a bed, trembling hands stroking across his forehead as a deep voice muttered soothing noises that he couldn’t understand as he drifted away.

When he woke again he was alone, dressed in grey sweats that obviously belonged to someone much taller than him. There was no sign of his nanotech chest plate, his watch, or any other of his possessions. When he tried to move from the bed he found his hands unable to move further than a few feet from the headboard. There were no chains in sight, but he could feel the bonds connecting his wrists to the dark wood. Experimenting, he found he was able to move his hands freely while he was _on_ the bed, but as soon as hit feet hit the floor he felt the familiar constriction tighten around his wrists and he was unable to move any further. Climbing back onto the bed, the restriction immediately eased and he had full range of movement again.

_FUCK he hated magic!_

Still keeping all four limbs on the bed, he moved down to the bottom corner nearest to the door. Placing one foot on the floor he again felt the invisible bonds tighten, then vanish as he pulled that foot back up. He stared at the door, thinking hard. There was no way to reach the door from the bed; even if he could somehow anchor his feet and stretch his full body length (such as it was) across the empty space, he judged that it would still be slightly out of reach. It was a _large_ bedroom.

He considered calling out, but if he _was_ a prisoner (duh Tony - you’re chained with an invisible bond in someone’s _bedroom!_ ) he didn’t want his captors to know he was awake and testing the limits of his bonds. Better to remain quiet, even if it kills him to do so. He thinks better when he can talk out loud, running through possible scenarios and outcomes; he always found a solution quicker that way. Oh well, he’d just have to do it the slow way.

Sighing, he considered the rest of the room from his perch on the corner of the bed. A large dresser, dark wood matching that of the bed frame, stood next to an open door on the other side of the room. Moving to where he could see through the door he can tell instantly that it’s a bathroom – tiled floor, basin, shower. There might be room in there for a tub, somewhere he can’t see from his current position, and there’s more than likely a toilet in there as well and _instantly_ he needs to pee.

Tony groaned before he could stop himself, remembering the need for silence, but then realised that no actual sound had been emitted. A possibility occurred to him, and he spoke into the room _hello_ but again with no sound. Sighing, he tried a shout – nothing. _Fucking_ magic! He wondered if it’s just his voice silenced, or the room itself and tapped his knuckles against the wooden foot of the bed, and again there is no sound to match the action. Spotting a small lamp on the bedside table, he moved back to the head of the bed and snatched at the lamp, hefting it in his hand before throwing it hard against the floor. It shatters silently.

Not just him then – the whole room is silent.

… until a voice comes from behind him in the doorway to the room.

“That was an antique, you know.” The accusation sounded more amused than angry. Tony jerked and shuffled on the bed to face the speaker, feeling relief flood over him as he sees the familiar red cloak draped over the tall man in the doorway.

“STRANGE!” Tony is thrilled to hear actual sound coming out of his mouth. “Thank _fuck_ you’re here, buddy! Shit, where _is_ here anyway, I don’t know what’s going on, is this Earth? Did we win?” The inventor continued to babble as he scrambled his way across the bed to where the sorcerer stood. He went to place his feet on the floor and was surprised to feel the bonds still pulling him back toward the head of the bed.

“Shit, can you, y’know, do your thing,” Tony waved his hands in the air in a close approximation of the sorcerer’s magic, “I’m bound by something, I know you can’t see it but it’s there, I can’t get off the bed. C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

Stephen made a gesture with one hand as Tony beamed at him. The smile quickly faded as Tony felt the bonds on his wrists tighten and he was _pulled_ backward across the top of the bed by an invisible force, ending with his back pressed hard against the headboard and his hands pinned on either side of his body.

“ _Hey!_ ” he yelped, his breath starting to come faster as he took a closer look at the sorcerer supreme now stalking closer to the bed. He _looked_ the same, for the most part, though he was now dressed in casual jeans and shirt rather than his robes. One of his hands reached up to flick at one corner of the cloak at his neck and it immediately detached itself to float slightly behind as the sorcerer sat on the edge of the bed and reached toward him. Tony flinched involuntarily as Stephen clasped his chin in one hand and brushed a thumb over his lips.

“What the _fu_..” is all he gets out before his voice is silenced once more.

“Shh Tony, hush. You’re not going anywhere.” The sorcerer’s voice was gentle as he turned Tony’s head in his hand toward him. Tony found himself looking directly at Stephen’s face and immediately froze. His eyes were … darker than Tony remembered from their brief appearance, his smile a little more manic.

Tony tried to move away as the sorcerer moved his face closer to Tony’s but all of his limbs and body were now locked in place as Stephen cupped Tony’s face in both hands and stroked his cheeks. If Tony could have shuddered, he would have.

“You’re mine now, Tony.” The sorcerer sighed contentedly as he pressed his lips against Tony’s forehead, scattering soft kisses across his brow as his hands continued to caress his face and neck. Drawing back slightly, the sorcerer smiled at Tony as he gazed into his eyes.

“You belong to me.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the week since he had first awakened in this room, since the other man had first told Tony that he _belonged_ to the sorcerer, things had just gotten more confusing for Tony. Strange refused to elaborate on his first statements of ownership, but had made his claim clear by sleeping beside Tony each night, pulling the shorter man into an awkward embrace each night. Well, awkward for _Tony_ that is. The magician seemed well at ease with his long arms wrapped around Tony’s chest, legs stretched down and twining with Tony’s own. He spent a few minutes each night nuzzling at Tony’s neck, hands occasionally caressing Tony’s chest as Tony screamed silently inside and fought desperately against the invisible shackles that kept him from pulling away. While part of him was grateful that the sorcerer had not gone further than this, most nights he lay awake in fearful anticipation of what the sorcerer _might_ do, knowing he was utterly, completely helpless.

Tony had left the bed only rarely in the days that passed. Following that first conversation on the bed, Strange had temporarily extended the reach of Tony’s bonds so that he could use the bathroom, although when he tried to close the door for privacy he found it immovable. Thankfully the toilet was out of sight of the bed where Strange remained, resting casually against the bed head and watching silently. And yes, there _was_ a tub in the same alcove of the bathroom, hidden from view of the bedroom; the shower on the other hand was in full view of his captor, and Tony reluctantly decided against indulging himself, hoping for more freedom and privacy at a later date for that luxury.

After that, Strange set up a magical “call button” on the bedside table, telling Tony to press it if he needed the bathroom while Strange wasn’t there. He explained it would silently alert him to Tony’s need, though he warned he may not always be able to immediately respond. This proved true on the third day when Tony waited almost an hour for the sorcerer to appear, by which stage he was clenching his insides tight to stop from wetting himself for the first time since he was a child – well, except for that embarrassing incident in the suit at his birthday. Hell, he’d been _dying_ then, he gets a pass for that.

It was also on that third night that Strange forced Tony into the shower, telling the shorter man he was beginning to smell. He gave Tony the option of removing his own pants or having Strange immobilise him once more and removing them for him – Tony wisely chose the first option, but kept the bundled sweat pants clutched to his genitals as he stepped into the shower cubicle. He kept his back turned as he dropped the pants finally and turned on the water, moaning in silent pleasure as the hot water washed away days of sweat and fear from his skin. Although he wanted to stay in the water forever, letting it cleanse and comfort him, he changed that plan when he caught a glimpse of the sorcerer from the corner of his eye.

He was watching him. Standing silently in the entry from the bedroom, leaning casually against the door frame, the sorcerer’s eyes watched Tony’s every movement, following the rivulets of water that cascaded over his shoulders and backs, his eyes dark and mouth half-open. Tony shuddered and reached to turn the shower off, deciding he was clean enough.

“Nuh-uh.” Tony’s hand stilled on the tap at the negative murmur from the sorcerer in the doorway. He looked over to see the other man gesture in the direction of the cubicle shelf behind Tony, which held a variety of soaps, shampoos and the like. “You haven’t finished yet,” Strange instructed.

Tony hesitated before reaching again to turn the tap off, shaking his head. A scowl fell over the sorcerer’s face and he took a step forward and Tony froze.

“Clean yourself. Properly. Or I’ll do it for you.”

Tony swallowed around the rising panic is his throat. He could already feel bonds tightening over his wrists, ready to pin him to the shower wall while the other man … _no_! Throwing both palms up in a silent surrender Tony quickly backed away from the taps and picked up a bottle from the shelf with shaking hands, not even looking to see what it was. The sorcerer stepped back with a satisfied smirk and continued to watch as Tony poured a large glob of fragrant creaminess on to the palm of his hand. Checking the label as he placed it back on the shelf, he then used the cream to wash his body as quickly as he could, making sure he was thorough enough to not invite the other man to follow through on his earlier threat, but not lingering in any way which might be taken as gratuitous. With his back to the other man, Tony’s breath was fast as he expected any moment to hear the shower door open behind him.

Daring to believe himself clean enough for the other man’s satisfaction, Tony glanced over his shoulder at Strange and was relieved when the man gave a slight nod. Tony turned off the water and looked for a towel, finding none within reach. Looking over at the sorcerer again with a sinking feeling, Tony watched as  Strange smiled and waved a hand in the air, conjuring a thick grey towel which he held out in Tony’s direction.

It was too much to hope that he would simply leave it on the railing for Tony. Instead Tony stood – wet, naked, shivering – and knew that he was going to have to exit the shower cubicle and reach for it. Tony’s mind was frozen in a way he was _utterly_ unused to. Even in the cave his thoughts had continued to churn, considering possibilities and plans in a frenzy but _now_ … all thought was quiet. Flying through the wormhole into the void, watching Peter crumble into dust on Titan – never even in those moments had Tony felt such utter helplessness.

Swallowing hard, Tony took a shaky breath and opened the cubicle door, extending a hand forward. The sorcerer merely stood, towel held out of reach of Tony’s hand, eyes beckoning. Heart pounding Tony stepped out of the cubicle – one step, another – and then flinched as Strange made a gesture with his free hand and the shower door slammed shut behind Tony. Trying not to shake (any more than he already was from the cold water) Tony steeled himself and reached again for the towel, only to have Strange pull it back toward himself and frown at Tony with an arched eyebrow.

Confused, Tony tried to think what it was the other man wanted of him. He didn’t seem to intend to force himself upon the shorter man _at least not yet, thought Tony with an internal shudder_ but he obviously wanted something more before he would allow Tony to dry and cover himself. Tony tried reaching again for the towel, only for it to be held out of reach again, the sorcerer making a tutting noise with his tongue. Looking up at the taller man’s face, he watched his mouth form a single word, silently coaching Tony. _Oh._ Tony swallowed again and coughed, finding his voice intact.

“Please?” He asked hesitantly.

The sorcerer’s smile widened instantly, eyes shining in approval. Silently he nodded and held the towel out to within reaching distance, this time allowing Tony to tentatively take it from his hand. Tony paused before beginning to dry himself, eyes still on the other’s face.

“Thank you, he said, watching the sorcerer nod once more in acknowledgement. Tony quickly rubbed the towel over himself, rubbing away the wet and cold with a choked-off groan of pleasure. His hair was still wet but he only had the one towel, and he didn’t want to lift it that high in front of the other man, instead starting to wrap the towel around his waist.

“Stop.” The voice was more than just words, it was power, and Tony’s hands froze halfway to tying the towel in a knot at his waist. “Turn around,” the commands continued, and Tony found himself turning to face the shower against his will, a soft whimper in his throat cut off as he felt his voice again leave him.

 _No, not please not that, he can’t, no, PLEASE_ Tony’s thoughts were no longer still, his heart and mind gripped in paralysing fear which only heightened as he felt the sorcerer’s hands remove the towel from his waist baring his naked ass to the room. _No no no no no_

Tony could not even flinch when he felt the softness of the towel suddenly pressed to the back of his head, ruffling through his hair. The sorcerer spent some minutes pulling and rubbing the towel over Tony’s head, occasionally using a hand to grip the base of Tony’s skull and turn his head in a new direction to access a different part of his head. His hands were firm but gentle, never pushing too hard or pulling too tight, and Tony felt his body relax a little at the soft ministrations.

That relaxation evaporated when the softness of the towel was withdrawn and he felt Strange’s bare hands begin to twine through his hair instead, massaging his scalp in soft circles. He felt sudden warmth as the sorcerer stepped closer, and felt his breath on the back of his neck as the taller man bent to place a kiss on the side of Tony’s neck.

“So beautiful, my Tony,” Strange murmured into Tony’s ear as his left hand continued to comb through Tony’s hair, his right coming down to trail over Tony’s clavicle as the sorcerer continued pressing his lips against Tony’s ear and neck.

Tony’s heart was pounding in his chest and his eyes were squeezed shut, throat dry and breath hitching in his chest. He was still unable to move, unable to speak, and a tear squeezed from the corner of one eye as his mind cruelly provided vivid imagery as to what the sorcerer could do to him in this position.

Instead, the hands and lips on his skin suddenly stopped and Strange breathed a sigh against Tony’s neck, sounding almost … sorrowful? Hands gripping Tony’s shoulders, he gently turned the man toward him and reached one shaking hand to Tony’s face, wiping the tear away.

“No, Tony, no need for that,” he gently crooned. “Open your eyes, love.”

Tony kept his eyes firmly shut until he felt another hand reach to his face until the sorcerer had cupped both hands around his skull firmly.

“Tony,” firmer now, commanding, “open your eyes.”

Tony did, to find the sorcerer’s face only inches from his own. His eyes looked sad but he smiled softly as he caressed Tony’s face gently.

“No need for tears, love, you don’t need to be afraid of me.” His voice was almost pleading, as if he genuinely wanted, _needed_ Tony to understand something. “It’s all for _you_ Tony, don’t you see? All of me, everything I do, it’s only for you. I’d never do anything you didn’t want, love.” He regarded the shorter man carefully, searching his face. Seemingly finding it - even though Tony kept his face as expressionless as he could – he smiled and nodded.

Pressing another gentle kiss to Tony’s forehead, Strange stepped back and turned Tony toward the bedroom with an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

“Go to bed Tony, I’ll be in soon.”

Tony quickly left the bathroom as the sorcerer began pulling his own clothes off. Entering the bedroom Tony found a fresh pair of grey pyjama pants sitting on the top of the blankets and gratefully pulled them on as he heard the sound of the shower door opening and the water being turned back on. Alone in the bedroom and actually _standing_ on the floor, Tony gave a glance back to the bathroom and then looked nervously across to the closed bedroom door. Looking once more at the bathroom, he listened for anything to indicate the sorcerer might be finishing soon. Hearing a soft humming from the other room, Tony took a hesitant step toward the bedroom door, then another. He felt no bonds tighten around his wrists, no compulsion preventing his movement.

Taking a deep breath, Tony strode quickly but quietly toward the bedroom door and placed his hand on the doorknob, surprise covering his face when the handle actually turned. Adrenaline mixed with fear washed over him as he pulled the door open and took a step through the now open doorway.

Where he was immediately brought to a stop as a waft of red fabric rushed against him, wrapping tight around his shoulders and arms pulling him back into the bedroom. Silent, choked tears flooded Tony’s face as he fought uselessly against the material wrapping tighter around him with every attempted escape. Tony struggled in a mad panic as the cloak simply continued to pull at his thrashing limbs, lifting him in mid-air and collapsing him onto the bed where it pushed him down onto the blankets. Tears continued to flow down Tony’s face as he sobbed, powerless against the artefact, his struggles becoming slower as his energy and adrenaline faded. In the back of his mind he realised the sound of water from the bathroom had stopped and he looked up helplessly to see the sorcerer standing in the doorway, looking sadly at the confined man on the bed.

“Oh Tony.” He shook his head in sad disappointment and made a nod toward the cloak, which finally released Tony leaving him limp and drained on the bed covers. A simple wave of the sorcerer’s hand and Tony felt the familiar bonds tighten around his wrists – he didn’t even try to fight as they pulled him further up and across the bed to his usual sleeping position. Another waved hand and the bedroom door closed with a quiet click, sounding much louder to Tony’s ears.

Strange merely sighed and reached into a drawer for his own sleeping pants, these ones in a pale blue. Dressing himself quickly he made another gesture which pulled the blankets down from beneath Tony to the end of the bed. Climbing onto the bed behind Tony, Strange wrapped his right arm over the shorter man’s chest in what had become his usual nightly pose. The blankets pulled themselves over the spooned couple as Strange settled himself against Tony’s back, nestling his face into the tender crook of Tony’s neck and ignoring the drying tear tracks on his face. Kissing softly under Tony’s ear, Strange sighed and whispered softly as he held his lover close.

“Sleep Tony. Tomorrow is another day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings (kinda): voyeurism, non-con touching (nothing too much)
> 
> NEXT chapter will dial it up a notch ;)
> 
> *EDIT END NOTE*  
> Seriously ... I just finished writing the second half of Chapter 3, and even *I* covered my face with my hands muttering "Oh my god, that is just so fucking WRONG" ... and I *wrote* it.
> 
> ... shit's gonna get dark, peeps!


End file.
